


undone

by LouRandom



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos is desperate, M/M, Magic, Or Is he?, Post-Season 2, Romance, Temptation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Viren is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouRandom/pseuds/LouRandom
Summary: Aaravos couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment when he stopped viewing Viren solely as his eventual way out of captivity and an occasional research companion, but also as a—painfully distracting—object of his desires.





	undone

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Leaf's](https://twitter.com/littleleafbun)  
> prompt about Aara being thirsty for Viren exposing bits and pieces of his skin but I cannot write without buildup so rip me i guess
> 
> On the upside, I drew a lil something depicting that one scene that was supposed to be the whole fic x) Leaf, you're awesome and amazing and I really hope this does your prompt justice :3
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaravos couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment when he stopped viewing Viren solely as his eventual way out of captivity and an occasional research companion, but also as a—painfully distracting—object of his desires.

Perhaps it was the first time the human stepped onto the other side of the mirror, grown tired and desperate, confined to a small part of the castle as he was after a lengthy trial and subsequent conditional release. Risking his life, draining his blood and chipping away at his life force once more—all for the chance for his physical form to join Aaravos in his prison, if only temporarily. Perhaps it was then. The frightened gaze. The shaking hands, both bleeding profusely. The further darkened veins patterned under his skin. Aaravos had smirked and cast a quick reinvigorating spell, mitigating his wounds, as well as some of the damage dark magic had wrought over his body.

“You—you could do that?” is the first thing Viren had asked. “This _whole time_?”

“Not when you were so far away—and not while casting through your form,” Aaravos had explained, holding Viren’s gaze, smirk only growing wider. “As pleasing as it was to channel magic through you, it can only ever channel outward.”

There’s the hard look afterwards. The specks of distrust. Then a tentative smile—the first truly real smile Aaravos had ever seen from Viren. A light blush blooms on his cheeks, making him seem far too innocent for a man who’d done quite the number of atrocities in his life.

Aaravos had felt something then, definitely—amusement, burgeoning familiarity, an acute desire to prolong that smile. Confusion at all of the above.

But he let it go.

And perhaps it was even earlier, if he were one inclined to venture into the dark deep webs of the subconscious and recall his reaction to the first time he had heard Viren speak. The handsome human face of an obviously powerful—and dangerously trusting—mage finally acquiring a voice. Aaravos’ first conversation partner in what felt like eternity, yet was but a thousand years. Perhaps it was the mage’s gasp as his caterpillar friend trod up his skin, the soft sighs, the trembling in Viren’s voice as he had asked,

“Who are you?”

Aaravos’ ears relished the sound, committing the voice to memory, savoring it, hoping against hope to have the chance to get used to it.

And he does.

The first time Viren visits him, he is overwhelmed by the abundance of books, and magical scrolls, and primeval historical texts all held in Aaravos’ otherwise humble prison. Eager to learn, hungry to discover more about magic from the secrets imprinted in Aaravos’ tomes, feel it around him as Aaravos cast spells unheard of and thought impossible by him.

He comes back a second time, of course, and a third, and it soon develops into a comfortable routine for them. Viren’s visit get ever more frequent, and he concedes to bringing Aaravos any and all texts on interdimensional influences he can find, which may be capable of hinting at ways for Aaravos to break the mirror’s hold.

Their conversations become warmer, going from mild quips and sarcastic banter to more personal topics as time goes. Viren tells Aaravos about his children, so devastated to have failed them as a father. He tells them how scarred and terrified they had returned, desperately seeking their father’s approval when the only thing he could feel was enormous relief. Aaravos speaks to him of Elarion, her talent, and vigor, and laugh which often made him regret never having children of his own. They listen to each other’s stories of losses and pains and offer some measure of solidarity, to the extent they are able, broken as they both are. It’s these times Aaravos feels so good it almost hurts, for the first time in a thousand years becoming the object of someone else’s care and attention. It’s addictive, and he finds himself ever more restless every time Viren leaves. This may have started spontaneously at one of these moments, Viren’s genuine concern tugging at something within him, something long since forsaken.

Or perhaps yet, things started changing after Viren had found out the secret elves and dragons had kept for generations, the cause of all the madness unraveling in the world still. Following the trail left by Aaravos’ research in the past millennium, the interconnected ancient texts, the hidden hints and clues—just as Aaravos had figured it out too late, already bound by Thunder’s curse for having wreaked havoc with his dark gift to the human race, Viren figures it out in an instant once all the pieces fit into place.

“This means… this means _anyone_ can connect to the Primal Sources,” Viren had whispered the revelation that day, fingers hovering shakily over the faded page of a grimoire. Aaravos had trouble looking away from them, wondering what they would feel like ghosting over his skin instead. It had become far too distracting, watching Viren like this. Letting his imagination play with ideas, entertain desires. “Even humans.” And that look on Viren’s face—one of pure wonder and the realization of deceit, of hopefulness and apprehension.

“Quite true,” Aaravos had said with a light smile, “I knew you would work it out soon enough. And now—shall we try it in practice?” Projections of stars appear and dance on and about Aaravos’ fingers, casting colorful reflections on Viren’s awe-struck face.

The daring grin tugging at Viren’s lips spoke for itself.

And Viren studying magic is… something else to observe. The constant experimenting despite Aaravos’ strict orders to please refrain from attempting anything beyond his current capabilities. The often disheveled appearance as every complex spell Viren tries inevitably backfires the first time, and the second, until he ends up with a broken limb or two in Aaravos’ arms, which provide Ocean Magic healing Viren has yet to master.

“I’ll get good at this at some point,” Viren grunts after the most recent healing session, still disoriented after the impact of his backfired spell.

“It took _me_ a hundred years to get good at this.” He smirks, flicking a stray strand of hair on Viren’s forehead. “The best of luck to you.”

Viren rolls his eyes, lets out a laugh and smacks Aaravos lightly on the shoulder, getting up to, most likely, attempt the spell that got him injured in the first place once more. And all Aaravos can do is stare at the place where Viren had willingly, purposefully touched him for the first time, and smile.

It’s tempting to avoid being truthful with himself, but Aaravos decides he has to admit he’s at least a little bit taken with Viren by that point. The freedom he has to touch and examine Viren’s body during healing, despite his wounded condition, makes him dizzy with possibility. As does the feel of the hard lean muscles of Viren’s body beneath his clothes and the tickle of Viren’s breath on Aaravos’ neck as he buries his head in the crook of it if his wound causes him extreme pain. The way Viren doesn’t mind and even encourages closeness when Aaravos is assisting him with a spell or other. The soft, light color of his eyes when he’s so close his gaze is almost hypnotizing.

Today—or, rather, tonight, if the periodical change of fake lights hanging in the fake sky outside his prison are any indication of real-world time passage—it hits Aaravos just how far gone he is.

The spell which teleports Viren here is close to waning, and after Viren’s more-than-a-little-risky ventures into Sunfire magic that day, they’ve decided to spend the last couple of hours in peace and quiet. Aaravos is seated at his desk, his back to the patterned window which ever served as a reminder of his wretched curse. Viren lounges in his favorite spot by the fire, leaning back into the plush red armchair Aaravos had installed for him in the study when it became obvious Viren would be a semi-permanent guest. His fingers move elegantly over sparks of light as he plays around with a Star magic spell, invoking the image of a distant solar system. It’s his obvious favorite of the elements he had mastered thus far, and one he has attained impressive mastery over, considering the relatively short period of time he’d had the chance to use it.

Aaravos enjoys these moments between them, especially as Viren seems to have lost any remaining tension he felt because of Aaravos’ presence and touch; Aaravos is quick to use this to his advantage. He would finish the books or scrolls he was reading and walk over to the bookshelf behind Viren, a hand resting on his shoulder momentarily as he did. He would lean over his shoulder sometimes, to peek at what Viren had before him in that moment. He would smooth Viren’s hair when it got far too messy from his habit of running his hand through it when whatever he was reading frustrated or confused him—just like he is doing now.

Aaravos has long forgotten whatever tome he had open on his desk, far too distracted this evening by Viren, who seems to be oblivious to the effect he is having on him. He’s changed his clothing style as of late, opting for darker and simpler garments. They reveal more skin than before, too, both to Aaravos pleasure and ever growing frustration at not being able to touch its entirety.

The temptation even worse now.

The fire Viren struck in the fireplace maintained its temperature at a level higher than normal flames should, and of course, he’s gotten a bit too warm. Aaravos could fix it himself or tell Viren to do so, but the heat doesn’t much bother him and it _is_ amusing, if terribly distracting, to watch Viren deal with it. In fact, he doesn’t seem to consciously notice it, totally engrossed in his reading.  He does forego his overcoat, though, movements absent-minded. Rolls up his sleeves and undoes a couple of buttons of his shirt, the dark material contrasting beautifully against the paleness of his skin. All of this is too much of an alluring sight for Aaravos to keep still, to concentrate, to keep his mind from wandering to consider the enticing possibilities of what he could do. What if—Aaravos walked towards him and adjusted his rumpled collar. What if—he just straight grabbed him by it and pressed his lips to Viren’s. What if—he straddled him right there on the armchair and kissed down his neck, to the now visible part of his chest, revealing ever more skin as he—

Aaravos closes his eyes, hand gripping the edge of the table in a vain attempt to hold himself together. He could ask him outright of course, or hint at it, albeit Viren can be quite dense with subtleties. He can do _something_ before their time for today is over—or keep wallowing in this lust-riddled haze for the agonizingly long hours before his human returns.

 _His,_ Aaravos notices himself thinking. Not quite. Not yet.

_But he can be._

He opens his eyes and immediately regrets it.

Viren is playing with yet another button, setting it free, a light sprinkle of chest hair coming into view. Aaravos sighs, despite himself. Quite noticeably, it seems. Viren raises head to look at Aaravos with that innocently confused expression of his, head tilted to the side and eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

Damn the man.

It should be impossible for him to influence Aaravos this way, but as Aaravos averts his eyes and glances out the window, he is reminded once more of just how long he has spent in captivity and solitude, just how desperate for human, elven— _any_ contact he’s gotten. And as his eyes drift back to meet Viren’s bemused gaze, he is reminded once again of how gorgeous his unexpected companion looks. That maybe this—whatever _this_ is—isn’t born solely out of desperation after all.

“Is something wrong, Aaravos?” Viren’s voice comes out husky, with a lazy quality to it, as he stretches and leans further back into the armchair.

“No, no,” Aaravos is quick to reply. “Simply thinking.”

“What about?” Viren locks his gaze onto his, looking at Aaravos in mild confusion and what might or might not be amusement.

“About how hot it’s gotten here all of a sudden,” Aaravos says, eyes darting towards the fireplace.

“Oh! Uh…” Viren flushes, and the image sends another wave of want through Aaravos’ body. He smiles lightly, a light blush coloring his features, and runs a hand through his hair again. “Right. Um, I may have overdone the spell a bit.”

Aaravos chuckles. “A bit?”

Viren rolls his eyes and builds a sigil with a quick wave of his fingers. It’s intricate, familiar, complex to cast and yet… Viren manages. The fire stays as it was except now emanating cold in place of heat—a neat mix of Sun and Moon magic. Amazing for a human to have learnt in such a short time.

“There,” Viren announces, smirk at the ready. “Impressed?”

“Hm, hardly,” Aaravos lies, chuckling at the way Viren’s grin slumps into a frown. “Your casting is good, but…” Aaravos stands and closes the books he had open on his desk with a flick of his hand. “The spell itself is hardly enough to surprise me.”

“Oh?” Viren raises his eyebrow, watching intently as Aaravos moves towards the fireplace. The cold isn’t excessive and serves to ground Aaravos a little, even as the feel of Viren’s signature magical energy around the flames makes his mind wander once more. “And what is?”

“Use your imagination, my Lord,” Aaravos teases, turning to face him. “Don’t you always say using dark magic has taught you the value of… creative solutions?”

He narrows his eyes at that and Aaravos wonders for a moment if the quip was very much uncalled for. Viren chuckles the next moment, though, and Aaravos does, as well, watching Viren’s eyes light up, watching his lips as they curl into a wide grin.

“I’m afraid I’m out of ideas,” he says, eyes trained on Aaravos’ still. There’s something daring in them now. Defiant. “Why don’t you give me a hint?”

Aaravos only smirks in reply. He dismantles Viren’s spell with a whisper, calming the raging fire into a peaceful warm flame. More shadows dance about Viren’s form now, the darkness making him look all the more appealing.

Aaravos approaches him slowly and stops right in front of Viren’s armchair, taking his book in hand, closing it and sending it floating back onto the bookshelves. They stay like this for a long moment, just looking at each other, their knees barely touching. There’s something that passes between them that Aaravos can’t quite name; Viren is good at keeping his face emotionless when he truly wants to. Aaravos’ eyes roam over his body, conveying without words what he wishes, _longs_ to do, and he wonders if Viren can see it, feel it as he does. It’s not the first time he wishes he had access to Viren’s thoughts and emotions, to be able to tell what and why he is thinking. Reach deep into his mind and truly own him, completely.

Viren takes a shuddering breath then, opening his mouth to say something. He seems to think better of it, though, and, before Aaravos can react, Viren stands and drags him by the collar of his robe to meet his lips in an instantly fervent kiss.

It’s surprising, that’s for certain, shocking even, and the thrill of it has Aaravos’ mind in a delirious haze. Viren’s lips are soft, sweet and pliant against his as he grips the edge of his hood, drawing Aaravos even closer, wrapping his arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Aaravos’ tongue finds his way into Viren’s mouth, tasting, exploring, and he’s thoroughly intoxicated by the closeness, by the heat burgeoning between them.

Viren’s soft moan makes whatever was left of Aaravos’ resolve crumble completely, and he pushes Viren back into the armchair with his body, both of them fumbling not to break the kiss as he does. He moves to straddle him, just like he’d imagined earlier. His hand slips fumbles with his shirt, dipping underneath the fabric to feel at the hard plains of his chest, the drag of hair against his fingers. His other hand tangles in Viren’s hair, gripping it hard enough to almost hurt, keeping him in place as he all but devours his mouth, the hunger of the past few days—months, even—growing ever stronger.

They break apart for air, and Aaravos can’t help but stare, mesmerized, at the image before him. Viren’s mouth is red from his attentions, his hair disheveled, his eyes dark and half-lidded, mirroring Aaravos’ desire. He manages a shaky chuckle as his hands drag downwards to Aaravos’ shoulders, to his chest to palm at his star sign. Aaravos shivers at the feeling. Too intimate, too personal. Yet maddeningly good.

“Surprising enough for you, Aaravos?” Viren asks, voice hindered by harsh breathing.

Aaravos laughs.

“Oh, quite,” he says, moving to unbutton Viren’s shirt the rest of the way. “You learn fast, my Lord.”

Viren’s eyes flutter shut at the words as his muscles shudder under Aaravos’ insistent touch, and Aaravos only grins wider. He rolls his hips against Viren’s slowly hardening length, making another delicious groan escape Viren’s lips. He throws his head back, baring the smooth pale column of his throat, and Aaravos leans in to mouth at it at once, grazing his teeth over the soft skin, trailing a row of kisses down to Viren’s collarbone. They both moan as Aaravos thrusts against him once more, heat coiling in the pit of his stomach, wave upon wave of pleasure consuming him whole.

“Gods,” Viren whispers, “Aaravos, I—”

“Yes?”

Viren tries to but is unable to speak, keening and whining as Aaravos comes up to nibble at his earlobe, then kisses down his jaw, his chin, finding his mouth again. Aaravos locks their lips in another kiss, more violent this time, before Viren breaks away, gasping for breath and barely finding his voice.

“How much time do we have left?” His tone is strained. Needy. Aaravos doesn’t trust his to sound any more composed.

“An hour, maybe more,” he breathes, his hand playing with Viren’s absolutely ruined hair, the other unbuckling his belt and moving to palm at his cock, drawing out another sweet, desperate sound from him. “Enough for a first time, yes?”

Viren only groans in reply as his hips buck into Aaravos’ touch, searching for more friction, begging for it, chasing the promise of release—and Aaravos is more than happy to provide. He pulls down Viren’s breeches and smallclothes to reveal his cock, beautifully hard and already wet with precome, and sinks to his knees to make Viren come undone.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway close to the end i realized i didn't wanna continue into nsfw like this BUT INSTEAD will write a smutty sequel from Viren's POV
> 
> because i can, i guess x)
> 
> thanks for the read! 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lou_Random) and [tumblr](https://lou-random.tumblr.com/)


End file.
